A Giant's Best Friend
by heidlebergchick
Summary: A loving tale of a man and his dog. Enjoy. No warnings


**Grammar School**

**School: **Hogwarts

**Chosen Technique:** Semicolons

**Word Count:** 795

**Prompt: **My relationship with my pet

**Year:** First Year

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**A Giant's Best Friend**

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Anyone with a pet will tell you; they possess their own mysterious brand of magic. You can't fool them, for they always seem to know exactly what mood you're in. When you're angry, they curl up and make themselves small. They blend in with their surroundings, making sure their presence goes unnoticed by your wrath.

When you're happy, they relax and seek you out, wanting to revel in your good mood. They know when you're at the stove cooking and humming a merry tune, they can squeeze a treat out of you. When my dog hears the telltale sound of a potato peeler, he comes running; he loves eating the peelings.

When you're upset or feeling sad, pets are the best cure; don't let anyone tell you differently. There's nothing like the weight of a boarhound across your lap to lift your spirits. The smell of him is comforting, as is the way he profusely licks your face, telling you, '_I'm here.'_ Just stroking him quietly, makes you feel warm and loved; everyone should have a pet, regardless of species.

Beasts are smart; their instincts are sharper than yours could ever hope to be. Some people seek out other people when they're sad, others want complete and utter solitude and crushing silence. Me? I want to pet my dog because when he looks at me I know he loves me unconditionally. There's something special about a love like that, there's no expectations or strings attached.

My dog always knows just what to do to lift my spirits; he nudges my arm until I lift it, and nestles himself underneath with his head on my lap. That way, I have little choice but to rest my arm over him and scratch his belly. He slobbers and drools, licking his nose, telling me in his own special way that I'm his favourite person. The rest of the world doesn't matter; it's just us, and that's all we need.

I remember the first time I saw him; he was a tiny little thing, starving and filthy. He was rummaging in a bin, behind the pub, trying to find something to eat. He was just a puppy; all skin and bones. Even when I knelt down, I was massive and intimidating, but he didn't look at me like I was a monster and I didn't look at him with pity. He came right up to my outstretched hand and sniffed. I picked him up with one massive hand and tucked him in my coat. He was finally warm and safe for the first time in his short life. I petted his tiny head and fed him pieces of bread from my pocket. I loved him instantly, and I like to think, he loved me. From that moment; we were inseparable.

He quickly fell in with my routine and flourished under my care. Soon he was as big and robust as any boarhound pup before him, even though he was still only the size of my boot. His black coat gleamed in the sun as he lounged between the cabbages. I was busy weeding and spraying, making sure the slugs and pests kept off the produce. The plucky puppy had other ideas.

A hedgehog decided to scurry across his path, right in front of his outstretched paws. The pup perked up instantly, ears up and tail wagging. I watched, eager to see what he would make of the prickly creature. He jumped around playfully, barking up a storm. The hedgehog paid him no mind as it continued to trek between the cabbages. The over-eager pup gave chase, yapping madly until he finally plucked up the courage to swat it with a paw. The hedgehog rolled into a ball, while the puppy yelped and fled right into my arms. I put him on my lap and petted him until he calmed down; the hedgehog was long gone.

That plucky puppy grew into an enormous boarhound; big enough to take over a whole sofa if he felt like it, but to me, he was just the right size to tuck under my arm. In the morning, he follows me through the forest on my rounds; he's popular with all the creatures. In the evenings, he lounges in front of the fire and guards the door. I don't know what I'd do without him and his comforting presence; the house wouldn't be right without him.

_I_ wouldn't feel right without him; I'd feel alone and unloved. I'd have no companion to share my rock cakes with, no self-appointed vacuum cleaner to keep the floor clean. Most of all, I wouldn't have my friend, who knows me best, that loves me for me.

Through thick and thin; my dog, Fang, is my best friend.


End file.
